Courier of Gunsmoke
by Kiridan-and-Jope
Summary: After the aftermath of the 2nd Battle of Hoover Dam, the Courier set out on his own path, alone. Deciding to go to the Big MT one last time, something goes horribly wrong. Can he fix the Big MT Transportalponder! or will he be trapped in a world he never was mean't to exist in at all?
1. Welcome to New Vegas

Courier of Gunsmoke.

 _ABC -_ Thought

* * *

"Stupid bug."

A man walking alone stood over the corpse of a bloated, abnormally large fly. Heat still radiated off his laser gun, already burning from the scorching sun above the dry, hot Mojave Desert. Bored out of his mind, he had started to wander everywhere after the big battle. Since that time, he hasn't had much to do, except the occasional job to take someone out, guard a caravan, or sabotage some poor bastard's stuff.

He had the occasional thought to maybe settle down. Maybe start farming or ranching, or a set up a small shop. Of course, he was restless, and nothing could probably anchor him down for long. Maybe he could start a pest-extermination job, killing Radroaches, Cazadores, and the giant Mantises. Maybe start up his own mailing business.

He kept walking on down the fractured road, holding his laser rifle in anticipation of any further attack. Where he was going now, he did not know. He left New Vegas, and the Mojave as a whole, in the "best" state since he made his existence known to the wasteland. Maybe he could go back to the Big MT, and look for some more loot there. He also still had questions, questions that came up from when he confronted Ulysses at the Divide. He doubts the brains could understand anything he says now though.

Nightfall soon came, and he decided to pitch camp, setting up home inside a small ditch in the ground. Setting up some traps near the outside perimeter of the ditch, he then moved some rocks in place and hid behind them. He set down his large sack of his goods, and using them as a resting place for his head, he soon fell into a deep sleep.

Daylight came, swept away the night, and gave the man his signal to move on. Before he did so, he pulled out some squirrel bits out of his sack, and started chewing on them. The meat was rough, and not at all tasty, but it was food, and food was food.

He soon set out on his journey to god-who-knows. If he felt like it, maybe he would trek all the way from the west to the east. A journey like that would seem impossible, but he was the fucking courier, and nothing will stop him. Maybe he should have made everyone write letters, so that he could take them from the west to the east. He thought that he should probably do that.

He then remembered: He wanted to talk to the brain things at the Big MT. Most importantly though, he wanted to take some stuff he forgot, but marked off as something that he would come back to get. Luckily, he wasn't that far from the Satellite where he was kidnapped, an event he still shudders.

At least they should have not taken his organs, especially his brain, getting that back was a hassle, although he does admit he didn't take bag his heart and spine. Whatever alternative device they put in, it was neat.

As soon as he approached the Drive In where it all started, He then sat down his bag, shuffling through it. Pulling out a small hand-gun like device, he held it out in front of him.

He pulled the trigger, but was surprised. Something had gone wrong. Well, not really yet, but something felt off. He pulled it again, but nothing happened. Examining it closely, he didn't see anything that could really cause a problem with the small handheld teleportation device. Not a single piece of grime was spotted, and all the parts seemed fine. He then pulled the trigger once more, but nothing still happened. Perhaps it was slow on batteries or something?

He then set it down on the road and decided to open it using a screwdriver, but decided not to, as touching old technology and trying to fix it, even with a mind as smart as his, was probably a REALLY bad idea. He soon decided to go with the alternative, which was pull the trigger many times. That's a smarter idea!

Then a miracle happened! He was at the Big MT, inside the Sink. Or that's what would have happened normally. Instead, blue light flashed about crazily from the small device. He quickly dropped the damned thing and picked up his sack with his left hand, preparing to make a run for it. No matter how fast he was, the damn thing swallowed up everything, as the light soon gobbled him up, and everything around the device.

Soon, his life was flashing before him. Or was it. White light, flashing spastically blinded his eyes, as he clawed at the air with his right hand, desperately trying to get out, to grab onto something. The damn thing must have exploded, a strong, powerful explosion, as he thought he was miles above in the air. He was falling, fast, and was blinded.

This is gonna suck, he thought to himself.

Finally, the journey to the afterlife, hell or heaven, probably neither, ended, as he felt a thud upon impact.

* * *

Spinning.

His head was spinning. The world was spinning.

There was also pain all over, but some Med-x should take care of that.

He must've been out for hours, as judging from the lack of light, it was night-time. He got up, and dusted off his armor.

"Thank god for Power Armor" He muttered to himself.

He scoured the ground for his belongings, and found his sack surprisingly all intact. Rummaging through it, he was surprised everything had fallen without having a single scratch. He sighed in relief. He also looked for the device, and he did, in pieces.

That night, he felt no terror like any other. Life in the Big MT sounded like hell.

He gathered up what pieces of it he could, and surveyed the surrounding area. Sand, sand, and sand. Lots of it, actually. Wherever he was, it wasn't the Big MT. While looking around, he saw a light source off in the distance. As he had no other destination, he decided to walk towards it. Picking up his Laser Rifle, he moved towards it.

As he approached it, he saw it was a small town. He checked his Pip-boy, only for it to be completely blank. The town had no name, just a [?] on his map. He decided to be extra cautious, as he could be approaching some xenophobic civilization, just as he had with the Boomers. That was not a fun experience.

A small building just on the outskirt of the town came into view as he approached the town. There was a sign on it that said 'Saloon'. Thirsty, he decided to enter in anyways, but had his gun out.

He opened up the Saloon Doors, and inside saw several people, all of whom looked at him immediately as he entered the Bar. As he approached the counter, he felt all of their eyes on him. Even the bartender looked at him as if he was foreign. Not the foreign as in "from another town" but the foreign as in "what world are you from?"

"What'dya want?" She asked.

"How much for Nuka-Cola?" He asked.

"Nuka-What?"

"Nuka-Cola. You know, Soda?"

"Sir. Whatever this… Nuka-Cola is, we don't serve that here."

"Fine, just get me some water."

He watched the bartender leave him a bit. As he waited, another person came and sat right next to him. The guy was a bit taller than he was. He was wearing some cowboy hat, along with a black vest, khaki jeans, and an ammo belt slung across his torso.

The bartender lady came back, with a glass of water.

"Here's some water. That will cost ya two bucks."

"I guess this is NCR territory." He says, reaching into his bag.

"NCR?" She responds.

"You know, New California Republic?"

"First Nuka-Cola, now some group? What are you, crazy?"

"Okay lady." He asks "Are we anywhere close to New Vegas?"

"You are in New Vegas."

"Wait. Nononono….."

The courier seemed frustrated.

"Why are you asking weird questions? You ask weird questions, you get dumb answers. Also, you still haven't pay those two bucks yet." She says as she leaves and goes to the other guy.

 _This can't be_ , the courier thought to himself. It was insanity. It was possible, but then again, it was so out of the world, even the wildest things to ever happen in the wasteland can't compare with this.

"Hey buddy?" The man next to him asked, concerned over the Courier's depressed posture, "You okay? I payed for your drink if that makes you any better."

"Tell me," The courier said in a low, monotone voice, "New Vegas is in the Mojave Desert, and was highly contested between the NCR, The Legion, and Mr. House, right?"

The man looked at him blankly, before laughing. He wasn't the only one who laughed, as the others in the Saloon started laughing as well.

"Buddy," One of the drunk men say, "I don't know if you knocked yourself out or something, but New Vegas is a small, boring, dull town in the middle of nowhere on this god-forsaken desert planet. We ain't never been attacked ever, and the only reason anyone would attack this town is out of sheer boredom."

So he was right. It was sheer insanity, but it was true.

He was probably in another fucking dimension.

He shrieked in the Saloon, which made him look more of a lunatic. Sobbing quietly in the Saloon for hours inside his Power Armor, he stayed until the Saloon was empty, and all that was left was him and the Bartender.

"Sir, if you're not going to leave, I'm gonna have to force you out." She threatened

"Yeah, whatever. I don't belong here anyways." He replied slowly. As he got up, sack slung over his shoulders, he saw two wanted posters.

[WANTED: VASH THE STAMPEDE – $$60,000,000,000.00]

[WANTED: JACQUES THE BUTCHER - $$20,000.00]

"Hey Ma'am," He asked, pointing at Vash's poster "Why is this guy's bounty so high?"

"You haven't heard?" She says, confused. "He wiped out an entire city by himself. Most dangerous man on the planet. Don't even think about go'in after him. He'll kill ya without a second thought, before you even move an inch."

"Can I take these two posters?"

"Sure, but like I said earlier, watch out for the Humanoid Typhoon."

"Humanoid Typhoon?"

"Yeah, that's what they call him."

The Courier then took the two posters, and put them in his bag. He then activated his Pip-boy, putting these two into it as a reminder for what to do later on. He then grabbed his sack and made his way out the exit.

"Wait!" The bartender shouted.

He then turned around.

"You ain't someone I know. I know everyone in this town, but you're something new. What's your name, sir?"

"My name?" He said. The Courier thought for a second, before giving his answer.

"My name is John Robinson, or you can just call me Courier. Everybody calls me that."

* * *

[Notes and stuff]: Well, there's that. I wrote this to get this crossover out of my mind. Now I am not a great writer. I'd probably say I'm a bad writer. Whatever, here it is to the world.

I might write a second chapter, but that all depends.

Also, if anyone is reading this, i have an question if you did play Fallout: New Vegas. Who did your Courier side with during the 2nd Battle of Hoover Dam.

Anyways that's it. See you guys.


	2. Ghost Town Showdown

Courier of Gunsmoke

' _ABC_ ' - Thought

* * *

"Please, come on sir, I need a place to stay…"

John then knelt down onto both of his knees, and clasped his hands together, pleading to the Innkeeper to let him stay. The Innkeeper looked at him for a few minutes, before sighing and tossing him a key, which clanked and bounced off his Power Armor.

"Fine, but tomorrow you get some money and pay what you owe, alright?"

"Thank you sir!" John exclaimed "Your gratitude will never be forgotten!"

"Yeah, yeah, just don't cause any trouble."

John began walking up the stairs, the old wood creaking underneath the weight of the Power Armor. Behind him, the innkeeper watched as the newcomer walked up, afraid the sheer weight of John's armor would collapse the stairs. Luckily for both of them, the wood held, and nothing was broken. He entered his small room, which had one window at the direct end from the door, a bed at the right of it, and a small table at the left of the window, with one chair. It's about as simple as it gets. He laid his sack at the end of the bed and took off his power armor, leaving it to stand, staring out the window like a molted exoskeleton.

He then fell flat on the bed, thinking about what to do. He had no knowledge of how to fix the damn thing, only a bit on how it worked. It was a teleporter, no shit, but a complex one. He would have to seek out help, salvage pieces of another teleporter maybe, and repair it that way. However, jury rigging can only take a person so far, and he doubted there were similar devices. He would also have to be careful about where he sought help. If the person he requested assistance from had other ideas, that could expose the Mojave to potentially worse threats than hordes of Deathclaws and those tunneler fuckers. Then again, it could happen vice versa as well, but if that ever happened, then it's their problem.

There was also the issue of what to do in the meantime in this world. He knew nothing of this world, had only his gear from when he was walking, and his Pip-boy's map had basically restarted. All his caps, legion coins, and NCR bills were worthless here. He would have to find a job here to make some money on the side while he searched for a way back. He could become a bounty hunter, but that would drain his now suddenly very precious and limited supply of laser and plasma ammunition. He also thought of going back to his old job, but then that would force him to make runs back and forth from several towns. Sure, it would allow him to go to new areas and potentially find people who could help him, but he would be restricted where to go, and he was so use to the freedom of movement after he was shot in the head that he couldn't possibly think of being limited on where he could go again.

Turning over and laying his head on the pillow, he wished it was all a dream, that this was a nightmare, that all that was happening was just a fake awakening, a fake reality that his mind concocted. Wishing the madness away, John soon felt the onset of exhaustion, slowly taking over his body. He soon closed his eyes, and fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

He woke up, back in the wasteland, behind the rock from when he slept in the ditch in the Mojave. It turns out, it was a dream after all. Getting up, he picked up his sack, and walked off into the wasteland. After what happened to the device in his dream, he decided that visiting the Big MT was probably not worth it, and avoided going to the satellite to meet the Brains.

Somehow, however, he found himself walking back to Goodsprings. He must have missed something there, perhaps seeing Doc Mitchell would solve all of his problems. Taking the long trek along the empty highways, he walked, rarely accosted by raiders and preyed upon by the freaks of the wasteland.

He passed Primm along the way, saluting the people and men there. It seems they were still happy about the outcome of the 2nd battle of Hoover Dam, and were glad to have him around as a kind of national hero to the nation. He stopped there temporarily for some grub, but insisted to the townsfolk that he had to go to Goodsprings.

Along the way, people passing by cheered and thanked him for his actions, for engaging in battle against the Bull's finest and defeating them. Sometime when he was nearing Goodsprings, he saw a man coming towards him.

"Hey man! Can you help me?"

"What is it?" John inquired

"People are after me. Can you hide me?"

"Ehh… I'm not sure…"

"Aw come on! Please!"

John thought for a minute. He could take the guy along, if the guy was willing to pay up some caps, but that wasn't like him, well, most of the time. He could bring the guy along as a pack mule, which could help him bring along more of his stuff, but as his companions have shown, when you drop your stuff on people, they respond in kind: by watching on the sidelines when you're getting brutally murdered by a Deathclaw.

While he was thinking, the man was shaking like crazy, twitching and turning his head, watching out for whatever was coming for him. All of a sudden, the man slapped John.

John fell over, and hit the ground with a hard thud! Getting up, he turned to face the bastard who slapped him.

The Mojave was no more, in its place a shitty dinky little room with one window, one bed, and one table. There was also some guy who was in his room as well. Wait.

After getting up, John took a good look at the person in his room.

He was a tall person, with blond spiky hair. He was wearing a red long-coat. Something John noticed about him was that he was holding something in his hands.

It was John's caravan lunch.

"Who the fuck are you and what are you doing?!" John boomed.

"Eheh, calm down, I was just hungry."

"I don't give two shits!, that's my lunch damn it! explain yourself!"

"Well, I was being chased around by some mean guys, and I found that your door was unlocked. So I came in and took shelter in your room, when I realized I was hungry from all that running. So I looked through your bag and found this among all your weird trinkets. It looked like the most edible thing of what you had, so I helped myself to it. Surely you can understand, right?"

Whatever his words were, they didn't get to John, because as soon as that red idiot shut his mouth, John threw a right fist at him. The guy shrieked and dodged, then dodged again when John threw a left jab. Angry, John lunged at the man, but he just moved out of the way, causing John to collide with the small table. It was like he was a bull, and the red guy was a matador. Damn, if he had a stupid red blanket, it would be bullfighting.

"AH! Hey stop! Please! Yah!"

"Just stand still and let me smack ya!"

Gunfire interrupted their stupid play. John stopped chasing after the man and walked over to the window. Outside, he saw a group of men firing their guns off in the air while riding in a small car. The townspeople were outside, staring at the gang's wild behavior. In the back of the car, there was a big guy, a fat son of a bitch wearing a leather vest, leather pants, and a stupid metal helmet that was resembled a knight's helmet. In fact, they all dressed like the raiders he would encounter back at the Mojave. The big fat gun was carrying an equally big gun. It was a humorously massive weapon, like a giant shotgun. The barrel itself was about the length of John's arm. If John could guess, it probably was a giant shotgun, probably one that fired either big slugs or big buck shots, probably the former.

The men continued to fire their guns in the air, screaming and flailing their sharp tools in the air as well. Someone soon approached them, probably the mayor or something. Opening the Window a bit, John listened in on the conversation.

"What's your business here?" The Mayor demanded.

"We were tracking down Vash the Stampede, and he just so happened to come this way. Hand him over, and we'll give you a cut of the bounty money!" The big guy shouted. John assumed he was the leader of the group.

"Even if Vash the Stampede was here, we wouldn't hand him over. This small town is normally quiet, and we don't like it when people disturb the peace. If Vash wanted to come here, he stays here until he feels like it's time to leave. That's all"

"Listen old man," The big guy said, picking up his big shotgun with one arm and pointing it at the much smaller mayor "I don't like it when people don't listen to me, and I don't like it when people take my prey away from me as well. I hope you don't like the sight of blood, because if you don't hand him over right now"

Whatever was going on, John can't let it go on. He decided to intervene. He got inside his Power Armor suit and picked up a laser rifle.

"Um, sir?" The man asked "Where are you going?"

"Gonna teach some thugs a lesson." John replied.

John made his way to the door, but was blocked off when the man from earlier got in front of him.

"Out of my way! You've already pissed me off by eating my caravan lunch man."

"Well, see, I don't really think you should do this…"

"Why?"  
"Well, because somebody might get hurt."

John sighed deeply.

"No shit someone's going to get hurt. Now move out of the way."

John stepped forward, but again, the man blocked his way. He tried shoving the man out of the way, but was surprised at how persistent and stubborn the person was. Finally, he thought of a compromise.

"Alright, alright, listen." John spoke up "I'm not going to murder anyone, nor am I going to bloody someone. I am just going to give them a little scare, all right?"

"Really sir?!"

"Yeah, really. Not going to kill anyone, alright?"

"Thank you sir! Thank you for changing your violent ways!"

"Whatever, just watch."

John finally managed to get downstairs, when he saw the mayor being thrown around like a toy. The big guy's boys have been beating him up since that idiot blocked his way. If only that idiot didn't block him, the Mayor wouldn't look like a beat-up junkie on the curb in Freeside.

Turning on his laser rifle, he pointed it at them.

"Alright, playtime's over!" John shouted. "Any motherfucker who doesn't run at the sight of a man in Advanced Power Armor is a dead motherfucker!"

The gang looked at him. They stared at him for about two, three minutes or so, before bursting out into laughter.

"Who the fuck are you!"

"You gonna play space soldier or something boy?"

"Aren't you too old to play pretend dude?"

The Big one of the group got up, and looked at John.

"HAH! Look at you! You look like a fucking fool! What the hell do you think you're going to do to me?"

 _Welp, they didn't heed my warning_ , John thought to himself, as he imagined several piles of ashes mixed into the sand. He then pointed his Laser Rifle at one of the goons wearing a metal helmet.

"Oooh, what's that boy? Is that your 'pew pew' light gun? Come on! Shoot it!"

John pulled the trigger.

The Laser blasted straight through, burning through everything it hit. Completely incinerated, the remains of what was blown into the air by the wind. The body dropped, falling onto its ass. John then turned to the rest of the gang.

The rest of the gang, startled and confused by what just happened, all drew their guns and pointed them at John.

"You see that?" John says, pointing to the goon's burned off helmet. "This is what this baby can do at a low power setting. LOW POWER SETTING! At high power, this baby can drop Giant men within seconds, and destroy vehicles with only a few strikes. It can wreck a robot within minutes, and blast through steel as if it were nothing. Even worse, low or high, it will burn through a man, and turn him into ashes. If you know what's good for you, run!"

John watch as the men scrambled for their car, swearing and yelling at him, swearing that they'd come back to finish the job. The Big guy made it clear: He was going to come back, and he was going to bring his friends. They bumped into each other in a comedic fashion to get into the car, but soon enough drove off. John watched, making sure they left, and stood watching until their car was gone, out of sight.

One by one, the town's people came out. Slowly, one by one, they clapped. Everyone was soon praising John for what he had done.

"You did it!"

"Great job!"

"Thank you sir!"

"Sir, I thank you for protecting me there" The bloodied Mayor says, dusting himself off, "How can I help you?"

"Thanks for the praises, but it ain't over" John said back. "He's coming back, and he's going to bring more of his trash. It's best if you prepare yourselves for what's coming."

John then saw something in the corner of his eye. A red jacket, drinking out of a small bottle…

Grabbing the man by his shoulder, John then grabbed him and turned the man around to face him.

"Hehehe… Hi?" The man said meekly

"Hello. Give me my water back. Now"

"But you have so much water!" The man said, tearing up.

Snatching the bottle back, John responded to what the guy said. "It's mostly shit water. I have yet to clean it. Do you like shit water?"

The man suddenly looked stiff. Turning around and bending down, he vomited all over the ground.

"Let me guess," John said, smiling and laughing internally at the retribution "You drunk it?"

"You could've warned me!" The guy yelled, before erupting up all over the ground again.

"Why should I, you were a damn thief, eating my caravan lunch and all."

"I was hungry! Blegh!"

"Well, you could've asked. But now you ate my lunch and drunk some dirty water. It's a good punishment I say."

"Just please clean your- Blegh!"

"Well, I was getting around to that, but after seeing you upchuck all over the place, maybe not."

The upchucking episode lasted for half an hour. By then, the vomit was all over the ground. It was completely fucking disgusting. Looking away from the vile sight, John caught of a glimpse of something off in the distance.

Two figures on the back of some animal were coming towards the town.

* * *

[NOTES AND STUFF]: Here's a 2nd chapter from me and my "beautiful" writing skills.


End file.
